Dear Old Hemingway

I'm giving dear old Hemingway another chance.

I had an unfortunate incident with The Sun Also Rises in 11th grade (I've mentioned this before). The unfortunate incident was that I hated the book. To this day, when I think Sun Also Rises, I think man lying on his bed in a dark, European apartment whining about his 'war injury' (I didn't catch what the 'injury' was until my English teacher explained it to the class. Thanks, Mrs. Nelson).

And then, last winter, Hemingway's Snows of Kilimanjaro managed to edge out Fitzgerald's Winter Dreams in my American Lit. class.

Despite my professor calling Ernest a "crazy genius bastard," I was not amused.

However, being the noble, selfless, forgiving person that I am (translation: he's on my list of authors I need to read), I'm giving dear old Hemingway another chance.

I'm reading For Whom the Bell Tolls.

It's a war novel.

Oh my.

P.S. On a lighter note, I'm thinking of reviving the Expatriate's Club in Paris. Anyone interested?

P.S.Again. I just realized that Hemingway would probably absolutely hate the fact that I refer to him three times as "dear old Hemingway." Not very masculine, is it?